A Drunken Beauty
by Kumara and Bacon
Summary: Harry is depressed, and so is Draco. They begin talking about their problems... Title may soon change. Slash. Rated R. HPDM


Warning: Slash. Rated R for language.

Disclaimer: Plot is mine. Everything else is not.

A/N: Please tell me whether you guys would be interested in me continuing this story. Otherwise, just read, relax, get some popcorn... Type a hundred page review. Stuff like that. No really, 100 pages is too much. I couldn't read all that, but a review would be nice.

No Flames, please.

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Chapter 1: A Drunken Beauty 

Everyone I know seems to die: my parents, Cedric, Sirius… My friends have been injured countless times trying to help me when it would only lead to one moment, a moment they couldn't share with me. I couldn't take them to the battlefield to face Voldemort; yet, I knew that they would try if they could.

I wanted to tell them to stop being heroic; it wasn't getting them anywhere, but wouldn't that make me a hypocrite? They always said I had a heroic tendency, and I'm beginning to think they're right, but wouldn't they help someone if they were in danger, and they were _right _there? You can't just fucking leave someone to die; it doesn't work like that. Don't they understand? If we were ever in a perilous situation, and I was injured, I'd tell them to go, but I know they'd come back to me. Die with me even.

That's why I did what I did. I don't want anyone to get hurt because of me. Perhaps my decision was a bit rash, but what would you have done? Everyone I love… Everyone I care for is in danger, and that's why I cut myself off from everyone. I forced myself not to ask Hermione for help, or talk to Ron. Couldn't they see? Someday, they're going to be killed for being acquainted with me. Might as well end it while you can, right?

_Don't be so pigheaded! Voldemort probably would've killed us anyway. He's a mass murderer, remember!_

_Oh, come now, mate. Be sensible. How're you going to live life with no friends?_

_I won't stand for this, Harry! You'll come back in a day or two. You're going to need my help sooner or later. _

With their angry words running fresh in my mind, I stormed to the Room of Requirement, steaming that both of them were confident I would come crawling back to them, which made me want to prove them wrong.

After the war ends, I can have as many friends as I wish, but now, everyone's best interests should be to stay away from me. Just talking to me can get a huge green flash in the face. A nice wake-up call, isn't it? Maybe after they die, they'll think: Hey, maybe I should've listened to Harry, should've ran away while I could.

Pacing back and forth in front of the Room of Requirement, I thought of nothing but a vast bar filled, not with soda, but cold, hard liquor. Pain had permanently settled in my mind, a hurt I needed to numb, if only temporarily. And hangovers? Not a problem. Am I not a wizard?

A dark door appeared, with a dark knob to match. Unreluctantly, I scrambled in the door, finding myself in a dark room with everything I intended: a huge bar filled with different kinds of alcohol.

I swished past the bartender gateway, and stooped to the bottom shelves to see what they have, not like it truly mattered to me anyway. My expertise in alcohol didn't run very far.

It was with this idea in mind that I decided to try vodka first, apparently Russia's favorite drink. I figured, if it were so popular, it'd be good. Therefore, I cracked open the top, and poured it in the nearest, and tallest, glass I could find. No shot glasses for me. Just one, long drink.

The clear liquid poured smoothly in the tall glass I selected, much to my sad delight.

I turned when I heard the door open, and I narrowed my eyes. Draco Malfoy trying to disturb my solitude. "Go away, Malfoy," I said, purposefully placing an edge in my voice. Maybe, for once in my life, he'd actually go and fuck himself somewhere.

"Well, you have what I want. Might as well stay," he responded, taking a stool next to me, drawing up another glass of vodka.

I wanted to tell him to shove off and get his own bottle of vodka somewhere else because, even though I admittedly didn't like vodka, I desired it all for my lonesome self and to finish what I had started. However, my mood didn't appreciate the thought of arguing back; I simply didn't have the will or energy. Might as well let the leaves tumble where they may, I thought, sighing.

"Don't you like vodka, Potter?" Malfoy asked curiously, taking a sip.

"Not really, I just need to get drunk."

Malfoy seemed a little shocked at the news, probably wondering what happened to me, the "Golden Boy." If I could've picked a nickname for myself, I wouldn't pick _that _one. It sounds like something from one of Hermione's romance novels. Not that I've read any. Just an assumption.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his voice soft like fresh laundry pulled from a drier.

I shook my head. "It's none of your business," and the lack of anger in my voice surprised me. Don't we always talk in accusing tones to each other?

Malfoy nodded in understanding, a wicked smile creeping onto his face. "Want help getting drunk?"

My eyes widened, and I coughed some of my vodka up; his tone of voice sent shivers up my spine.

Well, if I've already sunk this low, I decided that I should go all the way. Get sodding drunk with a Malfoy. "Sure," I replied rather calmly, as if I got drunk with a Malfoy everyday of the week.

"Have you ever played, I Never?" he asked.

Again, I shook my head.

"Hold on a sec," he said, walking behind the bar to pick up some new bottles. "Here, you take a Budweiser, and I'll have… a Guiness."

Malfoy came around the bar once more and sat on his designated stool, both of us commencing to pop off the lids. "Alright, so you play I Never with two or more people, which we've got. One person says an action, and whoever's done it drinks. I'll start.

"I never picked a flower," he said, watching me take a sip of my beer before taking one of his own.

"I never…" I racked my brains for anything clever. "wore anything green."

"Oh, come on, Potter! Can't you think of something better than that?" he said, taking a drink from his Guiness. "I only said the flower thing so you'd know what to do."

"Fine, um…"

"Not yet, it's my turn," Malfoy paused, pretending to think, "I never ditched a class." Malfoy raised his eyebrows in surprise as he saw I also took a drink. Perhaps, he thought that the Golden Boy was also a goody-two-shoes who never missed a class if he could help it, or he thought that having friends like Hermione meant that you were always nagged to class. Well, Hermione's not always there…

"I never sucked up to Snape," I said, breaking the momentary silence.

He sent me a playful glare before taking a drink. "I never saw Ron in his underwear," he said, wiggling his eyebrows humorously as I took a sip.

"That's what you get from being his roommate," I responded, hoping no wrong ideas were forming in his mind.

"Does he look as nasty as I imagine?"

"He's not bad!" I defended, Ron being the closest I had to a friend anymore. "He's been lifting weights."

Malfoy laughed at this.

"It's not funny!" Like a hypocrite, I began laughing, too. Maybe the alcohol was beginning to have an influence over me. That or Ron really didn't look so great without his clothes… Honestly, it's the latter, but why would I tell that to Malfoy?

"I never…" I started, trying to think of something to say, trying to pick apart my better ideas from the fuzzy ones. "I never… kissed my worst enemy." Clever.

Neither of us took a drink. "If neither of us has done it, then we both drink," he said when it became clear that we've never kissed our worst enemies.

"I never thought about kissing my worst enemy."

"Well, I have now," I said with a hint of exasperation in my voice, gulping my beer. In fact, we both drank.

"Do you consider me your worst enemy?" he asked.

"Not really. I just don't really like you," my words beginning to slur.

"I don't like you either," he said, scooting his stool a tad closer to mine. We began drinking our beers freely after that, no nonsense over 'I Nevers.'

"Why are you here, Harry?" he slurred.

"Voldemort," I said in a harsh tone. "You?"

"Voldemort," came the reply, "friends, family… everything. I can't fucking take it anymore. Everyday, there's something new, and I can't just do what I want anymore. Everyday, my life is devoted to someone else. I don't want to live like this."

"Me too," I whispered, overwhelmed with the idea that we could hate each other, but be in similar, but opposite, situations.

Draco laid his head on the counter, his breathing going in and out more heavily with each intake of breath.

This urge came fluttering up inside me now that I knew he wasn't awake. Should I, or shouldn't I? He's not a light sleeper, is he? No, no, of course not. Light sleepers don't travel to dreamland that quickly.

I leaned over slightly and puckered my lips. As I came closer, I paused. This isn't right. You really can't do this kind of thing to people when they're sleeping, but at the same time…

Before I could stop myself, I gently pressed my lips against his.


End file.
